Withing the walls of my brain I have build
a concrete cell.
I wouldn't say I take comfort there.
It's hard to find comfort in the cold and stone.
But I am safe, at least.
And I tuck away the feeling.
To the world I am brave.
Maybe I am.
Or maybe I'm a coward.
But I know I keep myself going.
I am fueled by my passion for
keeping the world going.
I tell them, "I've got your back. I've got everyone's back."
And mostly I do.
And mostly I can handle it.
The refuge and distraction provides a safety.
I can push aside my closet-monsters and fires
and refocus on a different trial.
But still they ask, "What happens when you can't?"
Well, I asked too.
And I answered.
And it never happens.
And that's my fatal flaw.
My heart was made too big for my chest.
I have learned a compassion too big for my mind.
Sure, someday maybe it'll kill me.
But I know far more that it's saved me thus far.
So why worry?
Why?
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